


Hiss hiss, Potter

by Augasta



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: All very sweet, Angst with a Happy Ending, Draco Malfoy is Bad at Feelings, Eventual Romance, Fluff, He tries so hard, I promise, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, M/M, Not Bad, Parselmouth Draco Malfoy, Parselmouth Harry Potter, Parseltongue, Unrequited Crush, Yule Ball (Harry Potter), not actually tho, poor boi, seriously I cannot write anything fluffy can I
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-07
Updated: 2020-09-07
Packaged: 2021-03-06 21:07:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,182
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26335402
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Augasta/pseuds/Augasta
Summary: Yule Ball is coming and Harry has still no date. Draco tries to shoot his shot without revealing, who he really is.He learned Parseltongue just for Harry over the last year and hopes for the best.Until Hermione gets curious enough to help Harry to find his secret-admirer.
Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter
Comments: 6
Kudos: 233





	Hiss hiss, Potter

**Author's Note:**

> I'm a sucker for Parselmouth Draco, we need more of that! This is me contributing my shit for the community.

Unrequited crushes are the worst.

Nobody knows that better than Draco Malfoy. He's been trying to get Wonder Boy's attention for the last three years, seemingly without any success. Draco feels quite hopeless about it. He had planned every accounter, had tried to make himself presentable and talk as long as possible with him, but it all went to shit the moment, Draco opened his mouth. He scowled. Pansy had said, that his cheeky mouth would be the death of him and he finds, he agrees. His heart aches when he thinks about all the terrible things he had said and done. But who was he kidding? This was the kinda crush you knew would never work out. Not only, because the other person doesn't seem to like you, no, it's also because they are unreachable. 

And Harry Potter was the definition of unreachable for Draco Malfoy. 

In his pathetic attempts to feel closer to Harry, he started talking to him on a whim. That obviously didn't go well. Harry felt insulted every time Draco tried to be nice. If he would greet Harry with a "Morning, Potter! Where did you leave your comb?" to appear friendly, Harry would just scowl and snap at him to leave him alone. Draco was stunned to get such a reaction just from a greeting and when he turned to Blaise with a questioning glance, his friend would shrug and just say "That's Potter for you". Draco didn't know, what to make of that. Harry was surely capable of being nice since he had a ton of friends to prove he was likable enough. Why was he so weird to Draco? The Slytherin was not sure. 

Maybe it was because of the incident in first-year? Draco had been admittingly a tad rude, but to see the famous Harry Potter together with _Weasley_ was a shock for him then. Couldn't Harry understand his worry? The Weasleys were known for their slappy wandwork and lousy history after all. Surely Harry would like to have a capable guide in the wizarding world. But he had declined his hand. Well, there was nothing Draco could do about that, but he swore to himself to keep an eye out for Harry. 

In second year, Harry had surprised Hogwarts with his Parseltongue. Draco had been impressed. If that wasn't a sign for Harry to join Draco in Slytherin, then what else was? But Harry had been nervous about it and had never spoken to snakes in public again. Draco was disappointed. He found that ability quite cool. Maybe Harry needed someone to talk with? Snakes weren't a delightful company, after all, they would only know so much, but with Draco, Harry could converse. So Draco dedicated himself to learn the difficult language and after he found, that he was fluent enough, he sought out Harry again. But the latter fled every time Draco tried to speak with him. The Slytherin was distressed.

His friends proved to be of no help. They would tease him, calling him obsessed with Harry and made fun of him learning Parseltongue. But with a well-aimed Stinging Hex and a _Confundus_ here and there, Draco's passion was a secret again. His friends might resent him for his drastic measures, but they forgot before they could talk to him about it. Severus Snape observed his godson's behavior with worry. Draco's grades were decent enough, the Slytherin made sure of that (his father would have his head if he didn't get an O in the "important" classes). But his general attitude seems to be different. He invites Draco for tea.

"What is the matter with you, Draco?" Severus asks bluntly and the student almost chokes on his tea. Severus glares disapprovingly and hands him a napkin. If Severus didn't suspect that something was wrong, he was sure of it now. Draco cleans his mouth, puts his cup back, and sighs.

"Were you ever in love, Severus?" Draco asks back and the potion master looks stunned. He clears his throat and takes a tentative sip. 

"Where does this come from?" Severus counters, hoping to deflect. The knowing glint in Draco's eyes tells him, it's futile. Draco sighs again and watches the tea leaves settle on the bottom of the cup. He was never a friend of divination, but he would give everything to know if Harry might... like him back.

"I'm in love," he declares and Severus splutters. Draco? A barely fourteen-year-old boy in love? Draco scowls at his godfather's reaction.

"Ah yes, young love, wonderful," Severus tries to soothe him and cover his mishap, but Draco glares at him. Why was everyone set on making him believe, that his feelings weren't valid? His friends teased and made fun of him and even his godfather didn't take him seriously. How was he going to get Harry to notice him if the approval of his social circle was all Draco could think of?

"A pureblood witch, I presume?" Severus asks with a little smile, but Draco frowns. Was he supposed to like a girl? He wrinkled his nose. That didn't sound very pleasing. Girls were loud and... _girls._ He enjoys Pansy's company well enough, but he couldn't imagine holding her hand, or... or... _kissing_ her.

"No," he answers truthfully and his godfather's smile morphed into a straight line. Draco knew that look. Severus was about to be disappointed.

"He's not a witch," Draco adds, and the potion master narrows his eyes, daring Draco to continue, but the Slytherin knows no fear with him, so he says, "and he's a half-blood as far as I know."

Severus looks angry now and puts his cup down. Draco follows that motion, expecting some sort of punishment. But his godfather is silent for a while and Draco doesn't dare to look him in the eyes.

"Draco," Severus calls him softly and he follows the silent command and lifts his head. He assumed, his godfather would be angry, but he sees understanding instead.

"Don't tell anyone what you told me today. The world isn't kind to people like us," the potion master explains and Draco looks up, confused.

"People like us?" he echoes and Severus nods solemnly. "Men, who like... men," he says and Draco's eyes widen. He didn't like _men_ , he only like one boy! Surely the world shouldn't have anything against that! It wasn't like it was their business anyway! He tells Severus so.

"You are right, it should not be. But people have expectations for you. Your parents want you to marry a pureblood witch to produce an heir, do they not?" Draco scrunches his nose and nods. His father had implied, that Draco should start looking for a witch he liked. He had forgotten because it wasn't a direct order, but it could easily become one. His father was indecisive like that. 

"Well, you can't do that if you're in love with a boy, can you?" Severus says and Draco sneers. He wanted to be stubborn, tell him to "Watch him do it", but he knew, that Severus was right. His parents would pressure him to settle down after school and he was expected to start in the Ministry as Malfoy Sr. did. That didn't mean, that he wanted to. 

Severus dismissed him with a sympathetic expression, but Draco is stiff as he gets up and he thanks his godfather for the tea and leaves with a scowl. 

The conversation with Severus was eye-opening. Maybe that was the reason, Harry ignored Draco? Because he was scared, what the others would think? Or maybe he was also pressured to be someone he was not. Draco tries not to think about it too much, as he prepares his notes and homework for the next class. For the time being, he holds his feelings and his new skill for himself.

The year was going by and the Tournament was starting. Everyone seemed excited about the tasks and the other schools. The boys in his year were fawning over the Beauxbaton girls, but Draco found himself watching the Durmstrang boys instead. There was a weird beauty in the way they were holding themselves. They reminded him a little bit of wild beasts. Draco smirked. He could appreciate the raw beauty in that. But despite that, he cheered for Harry, as the Gryffindor fought with the dragon. Blaise and Pansy were obviously amused, but Draco justified, that everything was better than a Hufflepuff. They didn't seem to buy it, but they left him alone. 

After the first task, Harry was as popular as ever. He seemed to be in a fight with the Weasel, however, but he snapped at Draco when he tried to cheer him up. Draco shook his head. He sacrificed himself to be laughed at, as Moody transfigured him into a ferret and quickly left after that, out of pure embarrassment, but Harry didn't seem so keen to talk to him. It was depressing.

The Yule Ball neared and Draco tried pathetically to scout his rivals. Harry was interested in Cho, Draco could see that, but the Gryffindor was to shy to do something about it. Draco laughed at the absurdity of it all. He was sure, that Harry wouldn't like him back, but he looked for signs anyways. After he dropped a few hints here and there, which proved to be pointless, he gave up. Either Harry was deadset on being his nemesis, or the boy was just dense as hell. Draco tipped on the latter, but he had no evidence to back that up. 

"Potter has still no date? How is that possible, he is literally the Golden Boy and the Fourth Champion!" Pansy exclaimed and Draco winced at the volume of her voice. A couple of Slytherins turn around to hear, what the commotion is about, but after a quick glare from Draco, they mind their own business again. Nosy pack of snakes.

"No wonder with his charming personality," Blaise snarks and Draco snickers, for the appearance. 

"At this point, even Draco could be his date," Pansy jokes, but the sheer imagination does funny things to Draco's stomach. He fights the blush, that threatens to set on his cheeks.

"I wouldn't be his date, even if they paid me," Draco tries to deadpan, but his voice cracks. Blaise looks at him amused, so Draco just coughs and frowns.

"Maybe I'm getting sick?" he mutters and hopes, that Blaise buys it. He doesn't comment on it and goes back to insulting Harry.

"How is it possible, that he has no date?" he asks no one in particular, but Theo turns from his conversation with Milicent and an annoying grin stretches his face.

"My my, Potter is obviously one problem. But Draco here also has no date," he taunts and Draco sneers with as much malice as he can muster. What a twat.

"What? You have no date either? Go with me!" Pansy says and Draco sighs into his hands. This was what he was trying to avoid. Heterosexuality was so exhausting.

"I'll go with you if nobody else wants to go with me. I haven't asked yet-" he begins and cuts himself off, as he realizes his mistake. Blaise perks up, clearly interested.

"You have someone, you want to ask?" Draco winces and hides his face in his hands again. He wished for better friends. 

"Maybe," he says after a while and leaves the Hall with such haste, that Harry looks up from his dinner to watch him go.

"What's his problem?" Harry asks, with a full mouth, and Hermione clicks her tongue and admonishes him to _chew his food,_ like the mother hen she was.

"I don't know, Harry," she says with a knowing smirk, cutting her potatoes, and Harry scowls because he doesn't like that look on her face. She knows something he doesn't and teases him with that and if Harry was asked, what he would change at his friends, he would name Hermione's knowing smirk. 

"'alfoy?" Ron asks and Harry grunts affirmatively. Ron shakes his head and loads his plate with more food.

"Gotta say, mate, you notice him more and more every year," he claims and Harry turns his head in wonder.

"What the hell are you talking about? I don't _notice_ him," he splutters and Hermione sets her chin in her hand, still smirking.

"Yes, you kinda do, Harry. Everyone else is talking about the girls from Beauxbaton or the boys from Durmstrang, but all you're talking about is the task and Malfoy."

"The git," Ron adds and Hermione swats his arm. 

"I don't talk about him," Harry denies again, stabs his own potato and Hermione looks at him, with something like pity. He doesn't want to think about why she's looking at him like that. And it doesn't even make sense what they're saying! He doesn't think or talk about Malfoy at all! Harry has more important things to think about! The Tournament. Or the Death-Eater attack. His friends. His potion homework. Or Malfoy. And there he goes again. Harry slams his head on the table. The git can't seem to stay out of Harry's mind for five minutes! How was he supposed to concentrate when the prat was haunting him the whole time?

"Oh Harry," Hermione sighs, but Harry doesn't look at her.

"I'm not thinking of him," he mumbles and Ron pats his back affectionately. 

"You'll get over him, mate, you'll see. You just need a date for the bloody Ball and then you have something else to think about," he promises and Harry thinks that Ron tries to reassure him, but all it does is shoving him into his thinking again. About Potion homework. Not Malfoy. Certainly not Malfoy. 

Meanwhile, Draco is thinking about telling Harry, how he felt. Of course not face to face, Draco was way too shy for that, but a letter might do the trick. He was sitting at his desk for the last hour, writing and erasing paragraphs of poetry, because Draco was not a _heathen._ He was proud of his way with words, but everything he brought on paper was unsatisfactory and didn't convey, what Draco tried to say. He wanted to flatter Harry a little bit, stroking his ego, but also remind him, that he saw him as human, as Harry. Frustrated, he set the quill down and closed his eyes. This wasn't going to work. Harry was receiving fan mail every day and from the looks of it, he was quite tired of it. Draco's letter had to be special, had to stand out. He grits his teeth. This was harder than he thought.

Harry wouldn't appreciate flowers, nor chocolate. He ate treacle tart every day, if he could, so that fell out too. Every present Draco came up with he had to dismiss, because either Harry had no use for it, or he had the means to get it himself. Draco laid his head on the desk and watched the ink drying. Written words could be so misleading...

Draco's head shot up. Written words! He only tried to convey his message in written words! Maybe he could try and speak it out? But what should he say? And if he was talking, Harry would know, who he was- Draco had to avoid that at all cost. Maybe a Howler? Not the right letter. Howlers were way too aggressive and his confession was anything but. Maybe he could charm the letter to let it read it out itself? But how should he alter his voice? He would have to look for spells for that and that was time he could spend doing something more important. Maybe he should speak a different language? He could do it in French, but there was no way Harry could understand that...

By Merlin! Why hadn't he thought about it before?! He could do it in Parseltongue! It was special enough to stand out, and it wouldn't lead to him, because no one knew, he was a Parselmouth! Draco grinned. He had the perfect plan and the perfect setting. Now he only had to write and charm the whole thing...

It took the whole night but after more attempts than he could count, he was satisfied. Theo and Blaise had eyed his closed curtains with suspicion, but Draco flipped them off. 

"Give me some privacy, you wankers!" he yelled and Blaise snickered, obviously thinking, Draco did something nasty. But the latter didn't care. His hard work had paid off and the letter was finally ready. If he would hurry, Harry could get his letter at breakfast. With newfound energy, Draco took off for the owlery. He thought about using his own owl but he could be tracked, so he used a Hogwarts owl. He gave the owl some treats and it hooted softly, pleased. Draco chuckled, giving her the letter and petting her head.

"Be careful with that, alright? It's very important," he said to her and she nudged his hand, demanding more attention. Draco laughed and readily gave it to her. After some more petting, she hooted softly and got ready to take off. He watched her fly and hurried back to Hogwarts. He had to see Harry's face when he opened and read his letter. Blaise frowned a little as Draco joined him at the table, clearly out of breath. 

"Did you oversleep?" he asks and Draco nods. Blaise doesn't look convinced, but Draco flashed him an apologetic smile, so he only huffed and turned to his breakfast. Draco had just grabbed a cup to fill it with tea when the joined hooting announced the post. Draco's gaze was swiftly locked on the Gryffindor table and on the surprised expression on Harry's face just as the owl dropped Draco's letter on Harry's plate. 

"You got post, mate?" Ron asks, muffled with beans in his mouth. Hermione just sighs deeply at the poor display of table manners, but she lets it go so she can pay attention to Harry's letter.

"Who's it from?" Hermione asks and Harry turns the letter but is disappointed to see it blank. There is no sender address, just his name on the front. Hermione frowns.

"Do you think, it's dangerous?" she asks and Harry hands it to her. She takes her wand out to perform a few examination spells. Draco watches her with distaste. His letter isn't dangerous! It's a bloody love letter! Harry gets thousands every month! After Hermione cast every charm she knew, she put her wand away satisfied.

"No dark magic. It's not a howler either. I guess, someone just forgot to write their name on the back," she says, shrugs and presumes her breakfast. Harry glances at the letter, decides "fuck it" and opened it with his knife. He is surprised to hear hissing.

_Dear Harry,_

_please forgive me for making this more difficult._

_I've been thinking about many ways to do this. Obviously I cannot tell you to your face and I must apologize for that. I know, you value honesty and bravery and that is really so Gryffindor from you. Forgive me, for I have not the confidence to tell nor to take the rejection._

_You must wonder, who would send you a letter in Parseltongue. The truth is, I have been learning it for you. You looked so dejected when you found out in second-year and it broke my heart to see such talent go to waste. I'll admit, it has been challenging, the most challenging task I ever burdened myself with, but I am glad, that I did. I wanted to be the only one, who can speak to you like this. Except for the snakes of course._

_I have admired you with some distance because I was sure, you wouldn't understand. I'm still not confident, you will. But I will try nonetheless, for I cannot hold my feelings a secret any longer._

_You must know, Harry, that I am a boy. A foolish boy, who fell in love with your wit and your humor. Your strange hair and your eyes. I fell for your confidence, for the way you give affection so free, so easily. I fell for the way you look when you're flying, for your laugh when you are surprised. I love the way your face is shining when you're spending time with your friends._

_I imagine, you are surprised. Astonished, maybe. It's not every day you get a letter like this and I made sure of it._

_Because I am selfish like that. I cannot tell you, who I am, but I still demand to be remembered. It's funny, isn't it?_

_I must slowly come to an end._

_Thank you, Harry, for being who you are, despite all those voices who expect something different._ _Since I see you not as the Savior, or the Boy-who-lived-once. I only see a boy, who never looked more content, than riding the broom in the summer rain._ _I wish, the world would see you as I do. They would be pleasantly surprised._

_One last thing I have to say: I love you, Harry, very much. So much, that I cannot live without telling you at least once. So I did._

_Thank you again, Harry._

_I love you._

_Your secret admirer_

Draco watched with anticipation, how Harry would react to his letter. He put his heart in it, it's the most honest thing Draco had ever written and he ached for an answer. But his confidence crumbled, because after the letter finished his hissing, Harry just looked at it, without any sort of expression. The Weasel tried to grab it, but Granger was faster. She attempted to read it again, but Draco charmed it so that only Harry can read it. But the Gryffindor just shrugged and took it back from Granger to leave it in his pocket. Draco is crushed. He had hoped for any kind of acceptance or rejection, but Harry didn't react to it at all. Draco hid his face in his hands. This was embarrassing. Not to mention humiliating. He hadn't felt this sad and dejected in a long time. Blaise eyed him and then stared at the Gryffindor table. 

"What did you do?" Blaise asks quietly, and Draco has to muffle a sob.

"I've just committed the biggest mistake in my life," he says, and it _hurts._ He wasn't prepared for the indifference to hurt this much. Blaise watches him with silent sympathy.

"You wanna talk about it?" he asks hesitantly and Draco shakes his head. "Fuck no." 

"Alright," Blaise says and packs his things, "we're talking in our room. Come one." Draco lets himself be dragged from the table and he wants to look at Harry, wants him to know how much he hurt Draco, but he cannot bring himself too. So he goes along, offers no resistance, and doesn't feel the gaze on his back.

"So, what did it say? I've never seen a letter like this," Ron asks, and he has no food in his mouth and Harry is so proud. Hermione scans the paper again, tips against it with her wand, but the parchment stays the way it is. Blank. 

"Really interesting. The writer must have charmed the letter to let the words be read out loud. Do you reckon, it was the real voice? No spell?" Hermione asks and Harry has to smile at her eager mind. Hermione would always be too curious for her own good.

"It was Parseltongue. I really had to pay attention to it, I haven't spoken or heard it in so long. But there's an English version. He must have spelled it, so only I can read it," Harry theorized and Hermione nods, agreeing. Ron looks thoughtful for a moment.

"A boy then?" he asks and Harry looks startled. It had surprised him to get a love letter in Parseltongue, so he had forgotten about that important detail. Hermione looks at him, calculating.

"It's a love letter, isn't it? From someone, who speaks Parseltongue," she says, and Harry nods sheepishly. 

"Did they say, who they were?" 

"No, he didn't," Harry replies and reads the letter again. It fills him with an odd feeling of peace. The writer obviously knows him well, so he must be going to Hogwarts. He pays enough attention to Harry to notice the little things, that made him happy. He reckons, even Ron doesn't know, that he's the happiest when he's flying. From the way the letter is written, Harry can only guess the type of person his secret admirer is, but he's intrigued. He wants to know, who it is.

"Hermione, can you help me find him? I'd like to give him an answer to his face," Harry asks, and Hermione's eyes glint with anticipation. 

"Of course, Harry! Can you write the letter on normal parchment? We can analyze it better then," she says and Harry's tempted to say yes. But then he remembers, that it's _his_ letter and that the sender only wanted _him_ to read it, so he shakes his head. Hermione looks disappointed but accepts it.

"Then tell us everything that letter says," Ron suggests and Harry nods.

"He's definitely going to Hogwarts. Not in Gryffindor, I think. He wrote something about Gryffindor bravery and that he doesn't have it," he explains and pauses. That comment sounded weirdly patronizing as if the writer was going to tease Harry with it. Not a Hufflepuff then. Hermione seems to think the same thing because she crosses Hufflepuff out on her list.

"He speaks Parseltongue and he learned it for me. He says I looked sad when I found out in second-year and that he wanted to talk to me," he adds, and Hermione coos. 

"That is so sweet!" Ron looks ready to gag, but Harry agrees with Hermione. He felt weird when he found out he was the only one in Hogwarts, who could speak Parseltongue. Except for Tom Riddle or course, but Harry didn't want to think about him. He had enough on his mind and the secret admirer was a welcomed distraction. 

"He said, he didn't feel confident, that I would understand his feelings." Hemione lifts one eyebrow in question. "Understand, not return?" she asks and Harry nods. She puts her head in her hand and chews on her pencil. She is thinking hard and Harry's heart warms at her enthusiasm.

"Maybe someone, who isn't out then? They've recently discovered, that they like men and couldn't understand it at first. So they expected you also to be confused," she reasons and Harry can bring himself to agree with that. He frowns. He knew, he was bisexual, when he kissed Cho and later Florentin from Beauxbaton. So he could understand the hesitation and fear. Harry felt bad for the writer. He must be in a very confusing place and nevertheless, he dared to send a letter like this. He must remember to correct the writer later, that he was definitely brave. Not brave enough to sign with his name, but the effort was there. Harry could appreciate the effort.

"Oh, and I think he's pretty confident in his everyday life. Or sure of himself. He pretty much admitted that he was selfish for trying to stay in my memory, even if he didn't tell me, who he is," he says and Hermione writes everything down. She puts the pencil back in her mouth and chews on the top of it. Harry catches Ron looking at her softly and briefly wonders, why he hasn't asked her out yet. He nudges Ron with his elbow and Ron hisses in confusion. 

"What," he asks and Harry grins, "Nothing." 

Hermione grumbles in concentration and wraps a strand of her hair around her finger. Harry finds it terribly endearing. 

"I have some names, but let me be honest, Harry. Your secret admirer is most likely a Slytherin and from the looks of the spellwork at least in our grade. You know, what that means." Harry grimaces at that. 

"I know, you don't particularly like them much, except for Malfoy," - "Hey," he interrupts, but she ignores him and continues, "and if you don't plan to respond positively to their confession, then I don't think, you should pursue them at all," she says empathically and Harry scowls in annoyment. 

"Why?"

"They went out to get their feelings on the open. I presume they don't expect a reply?"

"No," Harry glooms and shrinks in his seat.

"Well, then let them have their freedom. They were very brave confessing like that. You shouldn't just find them and dispose of their privacy just to reject them," she lectures and Harry can kinda see the point. Doesn't mean, it doesn't suck though.

"So, you mean, it could be Malfoy?!" Ron exclaims and half of the Gryffindor table turns to them. Hermione shooshes him and Harry kicks him in the shin, for good measure. 

"Ow," he growls and glares at Harry, "it's true, isn't it though? It could be the slimy ferret confessing his love to you!" And Harry has to slam his head on the table at the absurdity of it all. He looks at Ron expressly.

"So you think, Malfoy spends his free time insulting me, watching me fly and talk and laugh, and then proceeds to learn Parseltongue only to write me a love letter with such spellwork? You think this has Malfoy all over it?" Harry whisper-yells and Ron whines and rubs his shin. "Could be him, right 'Mione?" Hermione watched the whole exchange with barely concealed amusement. 

"Maybe," she says, shrugging, "His name is on my list. But we can only know if we can find the Parselmouth." 

"Right. And how, do you suggest, shall we do that?" Harry demands and Hermione laughs and flips her hair back.

" _We_ don't. _You_ do. It's your secret admirer after all. I've done the basic work for you and made you a list. And you just have to speak with every Slytherin and Ravenclaw on that list," she grins and hands him the parchment. It's a very long list. Harry pouts and scans the names. Some of them sound familiar and some of them are just names without a face.

"And you really can't help me?" he asks, glancing between his best friends back and forth and Ron has the nerve to look _smug._

"Oh no, mate. You're all on your own."

Harry was determined to find his secret admirer before the Yule Ball in two weeks. He wanted the writer to give a chance. Maybe, if they understood each other and had a good time, he would ask him to the Yule Ball. But for that to happen, he had to find a Parselmouth. The easiest way, Harry guessed, was to walk up to them, say something in Parseltongue, and wait how they would react. People, who didn't know Parseltongue mostly felt insulted, if someone was hissing at them, but, and this was only a guess on Harry's part, the secret admirer should recognize the pattern of the hissing and he should react to that. Merlin, Harry hoped, that this would work. 

He went through the list with an alarming tempo. He had to skip some people because he just couldn't find them, but he was already through half of the names and he only had offended at least 30 students. A new record, Harry mused and went back to the dormitories. On his way, he crossed Blaise Zabini, also a name on his list. Harry hissed at him and he could see Blaise's eyes widen in recognition. Was he Harry's secret admirer then?

"Oy, Zabini!" Harry yelled and the Slytherin glared at him with such malice, Harry had to pause. He never spoke with Zabini as long as he can remember, so what reason did Zabini have to be so hostile? A flash of silver hair came into his memory, the dejected look on Malfoy's face yesterday morning. Zabini had literally dragged Malfoy out of the Great Hall. Had they fought? 

"What do you want, Potter?" Zabini sneers and Harry huffs in annoyance. This secret admirer should be thankful, that Harry was keeping up with the snakes to find him.

"You know Parseltongue, don't you?" Harry asks with a smirk and Zabini schooles his expression into careful indifference. He knew something, Harry was sure of it.

"Of course I know Parseltongue, every Slytherin knows, what that is, Potter," Zabini appears to be annoyed and taps with his foot on the stone.

"Look, but you can speak it, right?" Harry snaps and Zabini's eyelid twitches in irritation. 

"No, I bloody can't, no everyone can be the Chosen one, alright? And now _let me pass_!" Zabini barks and attempts to shove Harry out of the way, but Harry just catches his wrist and pulls him closer.

"Prove it," he growls, and oh oh, there is a wand on his neck. Reluctantly, he lets Zabini's arm go and drops his own to his sides. But he stares back in defiance. Zabini should look Harry in the eye if he tries to hex him, but the Slytherin just points his wand to his chest.

"I don't have to prove anything to you, Potter! I don't speak it and that is it!" he snarls and Harry mirrors his expression. 

"But you know someone, who does," Harry says like it's a fact and he's sure to see a flicker of acceptance in Zabini's eyes, but then the Slytherin sneers. 

"You do, Potter. Isn't that enough?" Zabini tries to deflect, Harry notices and takes a deep breath, because if he messes this up, he'll never get to meet his secret admirer. Zabini is like the lock to the door. He has to bring him on his side, has to convince him to let Harry talk to that Parselmouth or at least, give him a message. He collects his thoughts and meets Zabini's stare dead-on. 

"I know, that you know the Parselmouth, who sent me the letter. No, I know you do," Harry says when Zabini opens his mouth to interrupt him, "and he has reasons to not tell me, who he is. Maybe he thinks, I won't accept him, or maybe he fears rejection, but he wanted me to know of his feelings. That's why he sent me a letter. He knows me and he gets me. And if he really understands me as much as I think he does, then I want to meet him. I won't reject him! You have to tell him that. I want to get to know him, what kind of person he is, how he drinks his tea, what his favorite food is," he pauses to see if Zabini is listening. The Slytherin still has his wand on Harry's chest, but it doesn't look as if he wants to hex him. 

"I want to spend time with him. And I think, that your Parselmouth wants that as well. Give him my message. If he wants to meet, he should owl me," he finishes and Zabini narrows his eyes. He is searching for something in Harry's face, but he isn't sure what it is. Does he think, he's lying?

"And you're sure, you're not going to put your tail between your legs and run if you see him? Because I sure as hell can picture you doing it. And he doesn't deserve that," Zabini's eyes flash dangerously and Harry has to gulp. 

"No, he doesn't," he begins nervously, "and I promise to you here and now, that I will give him a chance. Nothing more and nothing less." Zabini laughs.

"A chance, Potter?" he pants between his laughing fits and Harry feels quite awkward. 

"Sure," Zabini gets ahold of himself and straightens his clothes, "let's give you a chance, Potter. I'll tell him, what you said today." Harry's eyes widen in surprise. He can't believe his luck! The key just agreed to open the door! Harry sighs in relief.

"What, Potter? Didn't thought, it would play out like this?" Zabini asks, and he's smiling, so Harry allows himself a smirk.

"No, I didn't. I'm bloody happy, it did though." Zabini pauses and regards him with a calculating glance and all of a sudden, Harry feels uncomfortable again.

"Remember your promise, Potter. You know, what a promise means to us," he says and Harry can only nod. Zabini smirks and takes his wand down, only to take it up again, when he feels a presence behind him.

"Well well, isn't this Mr. Zabini and Mr. Potter. Aren't you a little bit distant from your dormitory, Mr. Potter?" Severus Snape asks slowly, and Harry notices, that Zabini slips away. Bloody snake, leaving him alone with Snape! 

"No, Sir, I mean, yes Sir," he hurries to answer and Snape's raises one eyebrow and steps aside.

"Well, you have three minutes until curfew. I'll suggest, you hurry up, Mr. Potter," he drawls, and Harry winces and curses himself for staying out so late. Hermione would have his head if he would lose house points for his tardiness. Snape follows Harry's back with his eyes for some time until he turns around the corner and left the dungeons. He cast a quick Tempus, noting with satisfaction, that he finished his rounds for today and left for his own quarters with something like a leap in his walk. 

Blaise just arrived by the common room on time and searched immediately for Draco. The poor boy was wallowing in his self-pity, moping and generally just cursing Harry. Blaise found him sitting on the bench under the window, his legs close to his body and his arms draped over them. Blaise chuckled and that got him the whole attention. Draco was frowning and he looked a bit dazed.

"Blaise?" he whispers and Blaise nods, "Yes." Draco acknowledges him and then went back to staring out of the window. Blaise, a little bit unsure, what to do, sits down beside him and musters his friend. He looks... detached. Like he wasn't there at all. All of a sudden Blaise got angry at Harry again. Draco had tried so hard to get Harry to notice him. Sure, sometimes he was just over the place, but then the other times he would do something thoughtful and Blaise knows, Draco would do it all over again. That's how far he's gone for Potter. Tentatively, he lifts his hand and sets it on Draco's arm. Grey eyes flicker to set on his face. They're a little bit red around the edges and Blaise knows, Draco has been crying again.

"It doesn't hurt any less," he whispers and Blaise's heart breaks to see his best friend like this. "I thought, it would get better after some time, but it doesn't hurt less."   
Blaise squeezes his hand and Draco tries a thankful smile, but it hurts to move his face, so it ends in a grimace. It's silent for a while until Draco looks up again and takes Blaise's hand in his.

"What should I do, if it never gets better? If I have to live with this pain for the rest of my life?" he asks quietly and Blaise decides there to do everything he can to let Potter see Draco. He burns Draco's face in his memory and vows to show Potter this if that twat ever messes up. Let that idiot die with guilt. But to do that, he has to bring them together. He owes Draco this.

"Hey," he begins, and Draco watches him silently, telling him to go on, "I've met Potter today." And Draco goes stiff, but he's still listening, so Blaise hurries to explain.

"He was searching for you. Hissing at Slytherins to see if someone would react. I-I'm sorry, I couldn't help it. After you showed me yesterday, I recognized it, and... he saw," Blaise adds and watches his friend uncurling himself. He takes a deep breath and continues. 

"He confronted me. He thought I was the secret admirer. He grabbed me, wanted me to speak Parseltongue, but I refused and he just... connected the dots, I guess. He doesn't know, it's you, Draco, but I think he expects it. He wanted me to tell you something," he explains but best friend's eyes stayed locked on his lips as if he's scared he's gonna miss something if he doesn't look.

"Can... can you show m-me?" Draco whispers and Blaise nods. So he gets up to get the Pensieve he snatched from his father and when he comes back, Blaise already has the memory in a vial. He opens Draco's hand and lays it inside.

"Watch it in our room. I'll keep Theo outside," Blaise promises and Draco tightly nods, walking upstairs and locking himself into their bedroom. He briefly debates sitting on the bed or the ground but decides to take the ground. He places the Pensieve in front of him and pours Blaise's memory inside. He takes a deep breath and dives in.

_Draco stands inside the corridor, Harry on the other side of his wand._

_"I know, that you know the Parselmouth, who sent me the letter. No, I know you do," Harry says, "and he has reasons to not tell me, who he is. Maybe he thinks, I won't accept him, or maybe he fears rejection, but he wanted me to know of his feelings. That's why he sent me a letter. He knows me and he gets me. And if he really understands me as much as I think he does, then I want to meet him. I won't reject him! You have to tell him that. I want to get to know him, what kind of person he is, how he drinks his tea, what his favorite food is," he pauses to see if Blaise is listening. The Slytherin still has his wand on Harry's chest, but it doesn't look as if he wants to hex him. Meanwhile musters Draco Harry's face. He seems genuine and the sole possibility puts a smile on his face._

_"I want to spend time with him. And I think, that your Parselmouth wants that as well. Give him my message. If he wants to meet, he should owl me," he finishes and Blaise is eying Harry up. But the Gryffindor doesn't say anything else, so Blaise speaks up._

_"And you're sure, you're not going to put your tail between your legs and run if you see him? Because I sure as hell can picture you doing it. And he doesn't deserve that." Blaise must have looked terrifying because Draco can see that Harry has to gulp. But Draco is proud of his friend, to see, that Blaise is defending him, defending his heart against Harry bloody Potter. He really has to hug him for this._

_"No, he doesn't," Harry begins nervously, "and I promise to you here and now, that I will give him a chance. Nothing more and nothing less." Blaise laughs. A chance, Draco wonders. Harry wants to give him a chance._

_"A chance, Potter?" Blaise pants between his laughing fits and Harry looks quite awkward. Draco chuckles and wonders, if Harry knew that Blaise would show him this. He feels so ridiculous close to Harry like this, it tears him apart._

_"Sure," Blaise gets ahold of himself and straightens his clothes, "let's give you a chance, Potter. I'll tell him, what you said today." Harry's eyes widen in surprise, Draco notices. So the Gryffindor didn't really have a plan when he confronted Blaise. Draco snorts. Bloody Gryffindor. Harry sighs in relief._

_"What, Potter? Didn't thought, it would play out like this?" Blaise asks, and he's smiling, and Harry smirks back at him. Draco shouldn't find him as sexy as he does._

_"No, I didn't. I'm bloody happy, it did though." Blaise pauses and regards Harry with a calculating glance and Harry looks uncomfortable now. Draco snickers._

_"Remember your promise, Potter. You know, what a promise means to us," Blaise threatens Slytherin style, and Draco beams at the Blaise memory. Harry manages a nod and Draco gets hurled back into his room again._

When he sits on the ground again, he has to blink several times and wish the tears away. This... this was more than he ever hoped for! A chance! With Harry! And Blaise... defended him even though he didn't have to. Draco smiles. He owes Blaise, big time. So he stands, hiding the Pensieve away after clearing it from the memory. 

"Draco?" Blaise hesitantly asks from outside the door and knocks. Draco doesn't pause, unlocks the door and hugs his best friend, who is surprised but hugs him back.

"Thank you, Blaise," Draco whispers and tightens his hold, "for everything." And he means it. Then he pulls back and he's smiling and Blais is smirking again.

"I could kiss you now, you know?" Draco deadpans and Blaise laughs like the free spirit he is. "Please don't."

Draco wrote Harry a second letter and he's even more nervous about this one than the last. He fed the Hogwarts owl some treats again and she hooted softly to get him to pet her again. She quite liked him, he noticed, not like his own owl. After she was satisfied, he gave her his letter and pets her one last time.

"Be careful with it, alright?" And then she took off. 

Harry is fidgeting in his seat like he's sitting on a bee nest. Hermione glares at him every now and then, but she is mostly bemused by his antics. Ron is eating as much as he can like he always did and Harry finds that weirdly comforting. 

"Did you find him yet?" Ron asks between bites and Harry sees, that Hermione only waited for one of them to crack so she didn't have to ask herself. 

"Yes. Err, no," he says and Ron frowns. 

"What now," he asks again and Harry scratches his neck, "I guess, both?"

Hermione puts her book down, something about Divination, and shots him one look and Harry caved. 

"Alright alright, I'll spill," he says and his friends look more excited than he does. "I've met Zabini yesterday and he knows, who my secret admirer is," he rushes out and Hermione blinks two times, before a big smile plasterers over her face.

"Harry! That's great! That means, they know you're looking for them now!" she congratulates him and really, he doesn't deserve that praise. He really has to depend on Zabini's goodwill for now and hope, that the message got through. 

"So, it's Malfoy," Ron says, muffled with food and Harry spits his orange juice on the table. "Eww, Harry," Hermione says disgusted and wipes it clean with her napkin. She seems unfazed by Ron's comment though. Harry chokes and coughs, hoping not to die. Hermione silently passes him another napkin.

"Thanks," he murmurs and proceeds to glare at Ron, who is still munching on his toast. "We don't know that yet."

"Aww, come on, Harry. It's Zabini? Best friend of Draco Malfoy? Of course, it's the pointy git," Ron says matter of factly, but Harry doesn't dare to believe him. He... he has to know for sure, before... before what exactly? But the hooting from the owls interrupts him and he waits for that one owl. He shots Zabini a look, but the Slytherin seems unfazed, even daring to smirk at Harry and he knows, that Zabini told the Parselmouth his message. All of a sudden he feels giddy and nervous. And then there is that grey owl with her white head and she has a letter and she drops it on Harry's plate. 

He's careful with the letter, turns it to see if there's a name, but there still isn't. A pang of disappointment fills him, but he doesn't allow himself to wallow in it. With his knife, he cuts the paper open and takes the letter out and the familiar hissing fills the Great Hall.

_Dear Harry,_

_a friend of mine has told me, that you have been looking for me. Imagine my surprise! Harry Potter is looking for me?  
It is almost too good to be true. But I will trust you with this Harry because I know, you're a good person. _

_I won't tell you my name. Not yet. But I think, you know, who I am regardless. I think I gave you too many hints in my last letter.  
But nevermind._

_My friend also told me, that you want to spend time with me. Was that the truth? You must understand, Harry, with our history I didn't dare believe him.  
But if it was... and you still want that, then I would like to invite you out, flying. Just you and me. And I can tell you, how I like my tea and what my favorite food is._

_Can I believe you, Harry? I hope, I can._

_I will wait on the pitch tonight, 10 pm sharp._

_Draco Malfoy_

And when Harry looks up and stares across the hall he finds the very familiar blond head and beams.

**Author's Note:**

> This turned out longer than I thought. Well fuck it, I guess.


End file.
